


Variations on a Chair

by randi2204



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Bondage, M/M, PWP, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-24
Updated: 2010-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a response to a lovely piece of art by Spubba, which featured Hunk tied to a chair wearing nothing but his headband. Woof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Chair

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron. I think Spubba owns the chair…

Sven paused outside the door to his room.  _What the_… A peculiar rumbling, slightly rattling sound reached his ears.  Frowning, he glanced up and down the corridor, but could see nothing that would warrant such a noise.  The castle’s ventilation system never made a noise like this, even when there was something wrong with it, and none of the ubiquitous maids were about with their hideously loud vacuum cleaners.  Not that they sounded quite like this, either.

 

No, it seemed to be coming from _inside_ his room.

 

He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged and opened the door.  Before he could even step into the darkened room, the noise assaulted his ears, sounding even more like an ancient buzz saw now that it was no longer muted by the door.

 

But it was definitely human in nature.  It sounded just like someone snoring.  Very loudly.

 

Perplexed and a little irked, Sven flipped on the light.  “All right, what are… you…” He trailed off, seeing that his bed was empty.

 

The noise came again.  Sven looked up and choked.

 

Hunk was draped over the straight-backed chair in the corner, with a periodical of some kind covering his face.

 

Stark naked.

 

Hunk snored again, and the pages of the magazine ruffled together.  But this time, the sound was quite obviously false.  One dark brown eye peeked out from beneath the journal.

 

Sven felt his lips curve in a predatory smile.

 

***

Sven paused outside the door to his room.  _What the…_ Two voices drifted faintly though.

 

“Do you really think…?” The first voice was deep, the bass sound carrying easily, though the owner had made an effort to soften it.

 

“For the hundredth time, yes!” The second was considerably lighter in tone, and sounded exasperated.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“It’s a little late for that now!  I’m almost done.”

 

“Fine!  Just hurry up!  He’ll be back soon!”

 

“Will you fer Chrissakes stop _squirming_?”

 

Confused at the odd conversation, but amused nevertheless, Sven leaned back against the corridor wall opposite his door, and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

He did so want to know what kind of explanation he was going to hear for _this_.  It ought to be good, whatever it was.

 

“There, done.”

 

There was a muffled thumping noise.  “Hey! I can’t…”

 

“Duh! That’s the point!  Now I’ve gotta book it.  Just sit tight.” The second person snorted with laughter.

 

“Laaance!” The deep voice groaned in pained protest.

 

“Later, big guy!”  Lance backed out Sven’s door, giving a thumb’s up to the one still inside.  “And don’t worry, he’ll love it!” He closed the door, cutting off another objection, and started to turn around.

 

Sven quickly schooled his features into a scowl, but was hard put to keep the smirk from breaking through when Lance saw him and started.  “Did you lose your way, Lance?” he inquired softly.  “Or did you just forget which room was yours?”

 

Lance swallowed, and all of his color fled his face.

 

Sven’s amusement grew.  _Am I really that intimidating?_ But he kept his frown in place and pushed off the wall.

 

“H-hey, Sven.” Lance flashed a sickly grin and visibly had to restrain himself from taking a step away.  “What’s up?”  He took a quick glance up the corridor, then down, but they were alone.  When he returned his attention to Sven, the Swede was right in front of him, his face mere inches away.  His eyes widened.

 

“Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ ‘what’s up’, Lance?”  He let his voice drop even further.  Lance shivered at the menace implied in his words, and again, he had to suppress a smile.  “Well?” he snapped.  “I’m waiting!”

 

Lance jumped again. “Look, Sven,” he said, raising his hands in a warding motion, “it’s not what you think!”

 

“Oh?”  He raised an eyebrow and leaned a little closer.  “And just what do I think it is?”

 

Lance finally cracked.  “Hey-it’s-not-my-fault-Hunk-just-wanted-to-do-something-nice-for-you-and-asked-me-to-help-him-out-that’s-all-I-swear-I-didn’t-even-really-enjoy-it-don’t-kill-me-happy-birthday!” Then he ducked, almost as if expecting a blow, dove around Sven and dashed down the hall.

 

Three seconds later, after Lance disappeared around the corner, Sven allowed himself a chuckle.  _I’ll have to make this up to him tomorrow, or Keith will have my head._  He put his hand on the doorknob, but hesitated.  _Hunk wanted to do something nice for me, huh? I wonder what they came up with?  And…‘happy birthday’? It can’t be that time again already, can it?_  Then he shrugged, deciding that it really didn’t matter, and opened the door.

 

The room was a disaster.  Clothes and technical journals were scattered all over, the bed was a rumpled mess, the sheets half-dragging on the floor, where they’d been flung early this morning when the alarm clock blared…

 

At least, that was what he was expecting when he flicked on the lights.  The light only came on at its dimmest setting, but with the candlelight, it was enough.  His eyes bulged as he saw that everything had been picked up and the bed neatly made.

 

Candlelight?

 

Two long taper candles were burning, one in each window, protected from setting the curtains afire by hurricane glasses.  Candles also graced nearly every flat surface that could accommodate them, though not, he noticed, on the headboard.

 

“Er… Happy birthday…”

 

Sven blinked as the voice caught his attention.  Then he smiled.

 

Hunk’s skin glowed bronze in the flickering light.  _All_ of his skin.  He was nude, except for the customary orange headband keeping his thick hair out of his face, and seated most provocatively on the straight-backed chair.  His ankles had been lashed firmly to the outside of the front legs of the chair.  His hands were tied together, and then bound to one of the slats of the back.  As Sven devoured him with his eyes, Hunk arched his back a little, in invitation, and his muscles rippled.

 

“You like?” This was said with a tinge of worry at the prolonged silence.

 

Sven nodded, smiling.  “I’m really going to have something to make up to Lance tomorrow…”

 

***

Sven paused briefly outside the door to his room.  _I wonder what_… he thought, then shrugged and opened it.

 

_Huh.  He really _can_ fall asleep anywhere…_

 

Hunk was sprawled in the straight-backed chair.  Disappointingly, he wore a tank top and sweatpants, his usual lounge-around clothes.  His head was resting against the chair back; his hands still loosely held a technical journal of some kind, though it was about to slip onto the floor.

 

Before it could fall, Sven plucked it from the big hands and laid it on the small table.  Then, studying the slumbering form, a wicked idea struck him, and he smiled. 

 

Silently, he slipped around Hunk, and lifted his head.  Moving slowly and cautiously, he unknotted the other’s headband with one hand, keeping Hunk’s head supported with the other.  When the long strip of orange cloth fell free, he gently repositioned Hunk’s head, so that it now hung forward.

 

Sven took a deep breath and held it.  Now came the hard part.  He ran his fingers down one muscled arm, and grasped the thick wrist.  Sinking to his knees behind the chair, he drew the arm carefully with him, until he had it positioned just so against the back.  He looped the headband around the wrist once, then repeated the procedure with the other arm and tied them to the back of the chair, just as Lance had.

 

_Too bad I don’t know what happened to the silky scarves Lance had used_, he thought.  _They surely would have come in handy…_

 

Done, he stood back to survey his work, and grinned.  Perfect.

 

He settled himself gingerly on Hunk’s lap, straddling him, then lifted his head and kissed him.  He pressed light nibbling kisses around his mouth and eyes, softly at first, then, when Hunk stirred and gave a little groan, more firmly, tongue flicking against the slack lips.

 

Hunk made another noise and embraced him.  Or rather, he tried to, and came awake immediately when his arms didn’t move.  “What the hell?”  He twisted, trying to see what had happened.  The chair lurched when he tried to jerk his arms free.

 

Sven smiled.  “Gotcha.”  He ran a finger down Hunk’s square jaw, pulling his attention away from his arms, then kissed him again.

 

When he drew back this time, Hunk was grinning, his eyes twinkling.  “All right, you’ve got me.  What are you going to do with me?”  He flexed his shoulders, as if testing his bonds again.

 

Sven pressed up against him and whispered, “Oh, I’ve got an idea or three…”

 

***

“Hey, wake up.” Something was rumbling in his ear.

 

“Ngggn.” Sven swam his way back to consciousness.  “What?”

 

“Time to get up.”

 

He _was_ up.  He made what could only be described as a rolling tackle and managed to pin Hunk to the mattress beneath him.  Then he began kissing him fiercely.

 

“What…?”

 

Sven paused in his rain of kisses just long enough to say, “I had the best dreams last night.”

 

“Oh, real-” He was cut off by Sven’s mouth once more.

 

When he needed to breathe again, Sven pulled away and said, “I’m going to go very quickly brush my teeth.  When I come back, I expect to see you in the chair over there.” He jerked his head in the general direction he meant.

 

“Uh, Sven?  We broke the chair, remember?”

 

Sven paused in the middle of untangling himself from the bedclothes.  “Oh.  Right.  Well, then the bed will be fine.” And he leapt upon Hunk again.  “But we’ll have to find another chair like it somewhere.”

 

“I think Lance is miffed that we stole his and broke it…”

 

***

March 9, 2003


End file.
